When “Immeasurably More” Doesn’t Look Like More

“Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us…”– Ephesians 3:20

I love this verse.

I have quoted it. Prayed it. Written it in cards. Spoken it over people I love.

God is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine.

What a promise to hold onto when you are believing God for something big. But what do we do with Ephesians 3:20 when the thing we have been asking for still hasn’t happened?

What do we do when we have prayed until we don’t know what else to say? When the marriage is still broken. When the child we love is still wandering. When the diagnosis hasn’t changed. When the addiction still has a grip. When the relationship has not been restored. When the person we have prayed for seems to be moving farther from God instead of closer to Him. When the door remains closed. When the miracle hasn’t come.

It can be difficult to read the words immeasurably more while living in what feels like immeasurably less. And if we aren’t careful, verses like this can begin to feel almost painful.

Because we know God is able. That was never really the question.

The harder question is:

What do I do when I know God can, but I am living in the reality that He hasn’t?

There is a particular kind of ache in knowing the power of God while simultaneously waiting for the intervention of God. I think sometimes we read this verse as though Paul is giving us a formula:

Ask God for something.

Believe big enough.

And God will exceed our expectations.

But that isn’t actually what Paul is saying. Paul does not say God will always do more than whatever specific thing we ask Him to do. He says God is able to do immeasurably more than we can ask or imagine.

There is a difference.

His ability has never been limited by the outcome I am currently seeing.

God does not become less powerful because my prayer has not yet been answered the way I hoped. He does not become less faithful because someone I love continues making choices I desperately wish they would stop making. He does not become less good because I cannot understand what He is doing. And perhaps one of the hardest parts of faith is learning to hold those truths while the circumstances in front of us seem to contradict them.

Sometimes I think we expect the “immeasurably more” to happen around us, but Paul says something easy to overlook:

“…according to his power that is at work within us.”

Within us.

Maybe sometimes the immeasurably more is the miracle we are asking for. But sometimes the immeasurably more is what God is doing in us while we are waiting for it.

A strength we did not know we could have.

A peace that makes absolutely no sense considering the circumstances.

A faith that survived questions we thought would destroy it.

A deeper dependence on God.

A softer heart instead of a bitter one.

The ability to release someone we love into God’s hands when every part of us wants to control the outcome.

The courage to keep loving without rescuing.

The wisdom to set boundaries without losing compassion.

The grace to keep praying when nothing appears to be changing.

Those things may not look as spectacular as the miracle we wanted, but they are not small. There are also times when the “more” God is doing is happening somewhere we cannot see.

We see a moment.

God sees a lifetime.

We see today’s choices.

God sees a story that is still being written.

We see the silence.

God sees everything happening beneath the surface.

And that becomes especially important when we are praying for people we love, because there comes a point when love has to acknowledge something difficult:

We cannot become the Holy Spirit for another person.

We cannot convict them into repentance. We cannot argue them into transformation. We cannot love them so perfectly that they finally make the right choices. We cannot manipulate circumstances enough to produce the outcome we desperately want.

There are places in another person’s heart that only God can reach, and sometimes faith looks like continuing to pray while releasing our demand to know exactly how God is going to answer.

That doesn’t mean becoming indifferent. It doesn’t mean we stop asking. It doesn’t mean we stop hoping, and it certainly doesn’t mean the situation doesn’t hurt.

It simply means our confidence begins shifting away from the outcome we can see and back onto the character of the God we know.

He is able.

Even here.

Even now.

Even when nothing looks different yet.

Even when the person you love seems impossibly far away.

Even when you have prayed the same prayer for years.

Even when your own story looks nothing like what you imagined it would.

Ephesians 3:20 is not asking us to pretend disappointment doesn’t exist. It is reminding us that disappointment does not get the final word on what God is capable of doing.

And neither does today.

Your current circumstances are not the conclusion of the story. Neither are someone else’s current choices.

We simply do not know what God may still do. Maybe the breakthrough comes tomorrow. Maybe restoration comes years from now. Maybe God answers in a completely different way than we imagined.

And maybe some things will remain mysteries on this side of heaven.

Faith does not require us to know which one it will be. Faith simply keeps bringing our prayers to the One who is able.

So if you are reading Ephesians 3:20 today and thinking,

But God, I don’t see it…

you are not disqualified from believing it.

You can hold unanswered prayer in one hand and the faithfulness of God in the other. You can grieve what is while still believing God is capable of what you cannot yet see. You can stop trying to manufacture the “immeasurably more” yourself. And you can entrust the people you love to the God who loves them even more than you do.

Maybe today the prayer doesn’t need to be,

“God, prove to me that You can do immeasurably more.”

Maybe it can simply be,

God, I still believe You are able. I don’t understand what You are doing. I don’t know how this story will unfold. I cannot change the people I love, and I cannot force the answers I have been praying for. But Your power has not diminished because I cannot see it. So help me trust You with what I cannot fix, surrender what I cannot control, and recognize the work You are doing, even if right now, that work is happening somewhere I cannot see. And while I wait for what You may do around me, keep doing Your work within me. Amen.